


In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god

by katnor



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Decisions, Famous Last Words, Gen, Sad Celebrimbor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnor/pseuds/katnor
Summary: Celebrimbor muses over his creative family, now long gone, and wonders what he himself has accomplished.





	In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god

He stood staring unseeingly at the flames that leapt gleefully in the fireplace. There had to be some way to learn more, to become more. His grandfather had been brilliant, he had created things no one thought possible, only to be suddenly gone in a flash of fire. His father… maybe not as brilliant, but still inventing things, learning new techniques. And here he was, a lesser son of great ancestors. What had he accomplished? 

He had repudiated his father and uncles. He had lost them all, ultimately, to the Oath, to kinslayings and madness. There were times when he regretted not having reached out, made his peace with his family. And what now? Too late for that, and the only living relatives he had (that he knew of) were Galadriel, Celebrían and Gil-Galad. 

And again, what had he accomplished? He was the lord of Eregion, he was the leader of the jewel smiths, the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, he had built a lovely city and a friendship with the people of Hadhodrond, or Khazad-Dûm, as they themselves named it. Uncle Moryo would have been proud of him, although he would have told him to tax them higher. 

Celeborn and Galadriel had left to found their own realm. He still couldn’t think about that without feeling a pang of regret, because in a way it felt like being orphaned again. Galadriel wasn’t much older than him, but she was still of the same generation as his father and treated him accordingly. Celeborn wasn’t a bad sort, in fact, most of the time he was a lot easier to get along with than his wife. 

Celebrimbor turned away from his contemplation of the fireplace and went to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of the strong Dwarven spirit he’d come to appreciate over the years. Narvi had always chortled over the fact that the only alcoholic beverage known to affect Elves was dwarven-made. He sipped the content of the cup, enjoying the burn of it and remembering his friend, now long gone. 

One thing he had created, with Narvi’s help, was ithildin, the specially crafted mithril that could be used for writing and was only visible in moon- or starlight. He was fairly proud of that, as it was useful for secret messages. But now, with Sauron back in Middle-earth, he needed to come up with something that would help the Elves, and all the Free People, in their war against evil. 

A knock on the door disturbed his musings. His major-domo came bustling in, tutting in disapproval over the cup in Celebrimbor’s hand. 

“My lord, there is someone at the gates asking to be let in. You asked to be informed when travellers arrived after sunset. Shall we let him in or ask him to wait until the morning when the gates are opened?” 

“Well, what kind of traveller is this? Does he look fair or foul?”

“I went down myself to take a look my lord. He looks fair. I am not sure how about how he _feels_ though. He claims his name is Annatar, and he has come here because he has heard of the famed Noldo jewelsmiths, and he wants to impart knowledge about metal working and how to work spells into jewellery.”

Celebrimbor wondered if this was indeed a stroke of luck, as it sounded like just what he had been looking for. He made up his mind.

“Let him in, fair or foul feelings aside. After all, how much damage can one man do?”

**Author's Note:**

> Celebrimbor is one of my favourite Silmarillion characters, partly because he's inherently good, a truly kind person, unselfish and loyal to a fault. Why does he never get a break?  
> I nicked the phrase about looking fair but maybe feeling foul from Frodo in The Fellowship, when he tries to explain why he trusts Strider despite his looking like a brigand.


End file.
